The Good, the Bad, and the Donkus
by jackfrostbeliever
Summary: A collection of one-shots and surrounding Betty, Simon/Ice King, and Marceline. No specific order, no specific topic, inspired by the new episode 'Betty'.
1. Chapter One

Simon still wasn't feeling quite like himself, even the day after she'd left him. Nikita, his ex-girlfriend, had broken up with him the previous night. He should've seen it coming by the way she didn't respond to his "I love you" s or hold his hand when they walked. She'd simply come out and told Simon that she wanted to see someone else. Things just weren't working for her anymore. Simon accepted it, and willed himself to forget about her. Forget her sparkling blue eyes and her silky black hair. Forget the way she scrunched her eyebrows together when she was thinking hard. Forget how much sugar and milk she liked in her coffee. Forget which courses they took together at their university. Forget how much he'd fallen for her. There would always be someone else.

_But I don't want someone else, _thought Simon as he walked, head down and slowly, to his next class. Nikita wasn't in this one; at least he could focus on his lessons this time. _I want her back._

Simon felt there were slim odds that he would find somebody else. It had taken him two years to work up the nerve to ask Nikita out to a movie. He wasn't just going to ask out the next cute girl he saw. With his brown eyes and shaggy hair to match, not to mention his glasses and his overall nerdy fashion sense and demeanour, what were the chances said girl would say yes anyways? Virtually non-existent.

_Don't lose your marbles, Simon. It won't be like this forever. You're only twenty-three, _thought Simon, attempting to lift up his spirits. _After all, it won't be hard to find someone with the same interests in university. They'll be in your class!_

He kept imagining different ways things could go his way, and ways he could die alone. A dorky exchange girl in need of a tutor. Rejection after rejection. Brushing hands with her at the library as they both reached for the same book. The roses he brought for her left to die on the sidewalk. It could go a million ways, and almost all of them swirled around his head. He harboured no actual hope that Nikita would ever come back, but that didn't mean it was the end of his love life. Or maybe it did. Break-ups always left people thinking that way. It's the end. It's the beginning. In his distracted state of mind, he didn't notice the girl until they'd tripped over each other's ankles, landing on the rough carpet and their books tumbling from their hands.

"Oh, bread-balls," said Simon, launching himself into stacking their books back into piles. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking."

He looked up just as her fingers brushed his, reaching for the text book his hand rested on. He found himself staring past oval lenses at bright green eyes framed on the sides by red hair. He pulled back his focus and saw that she was staring at him just as intently. She looked to be around his age, maybe a year or so younger. Her hair was in a ponytail, pulled back by a fuzzy green hair tie. She wore a short emerald green turtleneck dress over black pencil skirt. The skirt just grazed her knees. Inches below that were the edges of what had to be brown leather riding boots. Simon swallowed and handed her the text book. She was quite pretty. The girl blinked and smiled, snapping out of her daze. Simon wondered what she thought of him.

"Thanks," said the girl. The two rose to their feet clutching their books to their chests. "Uh, I guess I should've been paying more attention. I'm kinda lost. I just got a new course yesterday, and you know how it is."

"Oh, yeah. Easy to get lost," said Simon, hoping he didn't sound like a doofus. Simon looked to her stack of text books and saw that the philosophy text book was the one on top. The one he'd handed to her. The one on the top of his own stack. "Philosophy, right?"

"Actually, yes," said the girl, looking a little amazed. "How'd ya guess?"

"Well, it's on the top of your books. That means you were gonna use it before the others," said Simon. The girl smiled brightly. She had a kind smile, Simon noted. "That also happens to be my next class. I could show you where it is, I've been taking it since that start of the year."

"That'd be nice," said the girl. She shifted her books and held out a hand. "My name's Betty, Betty Grof."

"Simon. Simon Petrikov," said Simon, shaking her hand. "Well, we should hurry up. Don't want to be late on your first day."

Betty laughed and followed after Simon, telling him why she chose philosophy as a course. Simon was content to listen. When they arrived at the classroom, he had all but forgotten about Nikita. He had a feeling philosophy was going to become his new favorite subject…


	2. Chapter Two

Maybe that's my problem," said Betty, looking through an old family photo album, Simon by her side on the blue couch. The pictures inside were slightly yellowed. They contained the captured images of her parent's smiles. Later in the pictures, her father, a green-eyed, grizzly-faced man, disappeared. The pictures of her mother had joyless smiles and dim eyes, as though the mirth had been sucked right out of her. "Maybe I'm focusing too hard on how much of a donkus Dad was that I can't let my guard down. That's why Peter left. I didn't love enough, he said. Maybe I didn't."

Betty sighed and closed the album. She handed it to Simon and he set it on the coffee table with the others. Betty had invited him over for dinner. They'd been out on small dates like that, trips to the book store, the library, coffee shops, having dinner at the other's apartment every other weekend. He'd commented on the photo albums she left out on the coffee table after they'd washed the dishes, which had led to her pouring out her entire childhood, every friend, ever laugh, every tear. Simon had silently listened, the way he always did. Betty had begun to appreciate that about him. He listened when he needed to and opened up when he needed to. Not too much of either, just the perfect balance.

"I had just been dumped the night before the day we met," said Simon, speaking exactly when she needed him to. "I thought I would never find anyone else, which is why I gonked out and tripped over your ankles."

"Did you?" asked Betty. Simon shrugged and Betty rolled her eyes. She stood, headed for her shelf of movies. "What do you wanna watch?"

"I don't know, something with gusto," said Simon. That day, he wore jeans and a blue-grey turtleneck. Betty herself wore jeans and an orange turtleneck, her hair hanging loose. They shared a love of turtlenecks and books, if anything. "What about that one musical?"

Betty knew which musical he meant instantly. She found the movie seconds later and stuck it into her black DVD player. She grabbed the remote from the TV stand and set everything up so they could watch it. They left it on the main menu as they popped a bowl of popcorn together. They sat on the couch, bowl of popcorn between them, and watched the musical. They laughed and made comments about this and that, and then they're favourite part came on. Instead of doing the same thing they normally did, Simon wrapped his left arm around Betty's shoulder and pretended her left arm was a piano, his fingers striking imaginary keys to the beat of the cheery song.

"Dun, da da da da dun da da dun," he vocalized, playing out each note on Betty's arm. "_Makin' your way in the world today takes everything you got._"

"_Takin' a break from all your worries sure would help a lot,_" sang Betty, wrapping her arm around his waist. Hey, might as well seize the moment. They sang the next part together. "_Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name!_"

That was usually the part where they started laughing to hard to continue the song, because neither of them could sing that well and it was just too ridiculous not to laugh about. This time was no different. Betty found herself gasping for breath in between peals of laughter, leaning on Simon's shoulder for support. He was shaking with laughter, too. After a minute or so of laughter, they had missed the rest of the song and the start of the next scene. After the last giggle turned to a sigh, Betty found herself staring at Simon as he watched the musical, how he smiled at his favourite lines. A few seconds later, he looked over at her. Instead of looking away, she smiled and hugged him.

"Okay, said Simon, hugging Betty in return. "What did I do?"

"You tripped over my ankles and walked me to philosophy class," said Betty, pulling back just enough to look at his eyes. "Hard to believe that was almost a year ago."

Simon smiled and Betty closed the distance between their lips. She knew he wasn't going to do it. If she wanted to be more than friends, she'd have to take the initiative. Simon laced his arms from her waist to her back, his fingers combing through the ends of her hair. They shifted against each other into a more comfortable position and then pulled apart.

"I think I'll come over for dinner more often," said Simon a moment later, staring up at the ceiling.

"You know," said Betty, cuddled against his chest. "I'd like it if you did."


	3. Chapter Three

Marceline waved to the Ice King as he flew off, drums tied to his back and a penguin in his arms. They'd just written a song together, and he was no doubt about to go use it to pick up on chicks. She knew it wouldn't work, but he was her best friend. She had to at least try to help him. She turned and headed back into her house, watching Finn and Jake scamper off. She figured they probably thought she hadn't seen them. After shutting the door to her cave house, she noticed that the papers from the Ice King's scrapbook were still scattered around her kitchen. He'd forgotten them. Marceline smirked. Of course he'd forgotten them; he'd forgotten everything else so far. She knew that looking through the papers would bring her nothing but more heartache, but feeling heartache was better than forgetting about it.

She kneeled and rifled through the papers, the linoleum of her kitchen quickly leeching what little warmth she had from her knees. A few of the papers were just odd bits and pieces the Ice King had collected over his long life, pictures of penguins, library notices, ridiculous plans, and doodles. But some of them were Simon's. After sifting through the pile, she found a picture of herself and Simon. She was sitting on his lap, and he had one arm around her, the other up above them to take the picture. They each had their tongues out, Marcy's was bright red and Simon's was blue. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as the memory of the day it was taken came back…

"Simon, can we take a break?" asked Marceline. Her short eight-year-old legs couldn't quite keep up with Simon's long strides anymore. They'd been walking all day, trying to make it out if the city before nightfall. Simon looked down at her through cracked glasses. "Just a short one. My feet are starting to hurt."

"Sure thing, Marcy," said Simon, smiling down at her. He looked around and found an old cement picnic table not far off. It was missing a few chunks here and there, but it was otherwise okay. Marcy grabbed his hand with her free hand, the other clutching Hambo, and they took the short six steps to the table. Simon helped Marcy onto the bench and sat next to her. "Better now?"

"Yup," said Marcy, setting Hambo down on the table. Simon pulled off his pack and set it on the table next to Hambo. Marcy looked at the pack and remembered what was inside. "Simon, can I have it _now?_ Please?"

Simon sighed and unzipped the bag. Marcy clenched her fists in front of her mouth and squealed as Simon pulled out a plastic baggie of lollipops that they'd found in the abandoned candy shop. Simon laughed and pulled a red one out, handing it to Marcy and taking a blue one for himself. They unwrapped their lollipops and sucked on them quietly until Marcy remembered her manners. She took her lollipop out of her mouth and threw her arms around Simon's neck, causing him to nearly swallow his, stick and all, whole.

"Thank you, Simon," said Marcy. Simon gave Marcy a quick squeeze and she let go. "Is my tongue red yet?"

"Not yet. Give it a minute," said Simon after checking Marcy's long snake tongue. He chuckled. "Is mine blue?"

"No," said Marcy, giggling at the sight of a grown man with shaggy hair and a thick beard with his tongue out. Simon pulled back his tongue and laughed along with her. Marcy took her lollipop from her mouth and held it to Hambo's. "Here, you try it Hambo."

"You shouldn't share your lollipop with a bear, Marceline," said Simon, smiling and taking another lick of his own. "You might get cooties."

"I thought you could only get cooties from boys," said Marcy, putting her lollipop back in her mouth. She spoke around it. "That's what you told me."

"Hambo _is _a boy. He's a boy and a bear," said Simon, speaking around his own sucker. "You'll get _bear cooties_."

"Ewww!" exclaimed Marcy, letting her lollipop fall from her mouth and into the grass. She stuck out her tongue and began wiping it off. Simon chuckled. Marcy looked up at Simon and pulled her tongue back in. "There are no bear cooties, are there?"

"No, I was just joking," said Simon. Marcy giggled and then leaned down to grab her lollipop back. Simon laughed as she stuck it back in her mouth. "That's gross, Marcy. You're gross."

"You're gross, Simon," said Marcy. Simon stuck his tongue out and Marcy gasped softly. "Simon, your tongue is blue!"

"Is it? Well, show me your tongue," said Simon. Marcy's tongue shot out of her mouth and Simon smiled. "Yours is red now. Hey, you wanna take a picture? That way we'll always remember."

Marceline smiled and wiped her eyes. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the photograph and stood. She took a magnet from her fridge and stuck the picture to the door. That way, she could remember, even though he never could. She sighed and kneeled back down again, searching for another long lost memory to hold onto.


End file.
